


Wrong

by izuruthemad



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Monokuma's a Dick, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 02:59:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14155173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izuruthemad/pseuds/izuruthemad
Summary: This wasn't supposed to happen, Shirogane supposes, but it was a fun little twist of fate anyways.





	Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! here's another side project like Visions as a sort of break. I've got another angsty one-shot planned after this, but this one is harder for me to remember the idea so i thought i'd get it out now.

Shirogane was very proud of Flashback Lights.

She'd worked so very hard on them, she and the team did. Every false memory they supplied had her mark on them, from the first that the students had recieved to the latest one. They were so efficient, she supposed, that there was a possibility that one was used on  _her,_ but she doubted it. She  _was_ the mastermind after all, right?

Which is why she became so furious when it turned out a couple had failed.

She had brought them to the gym again- well, scratch that, the astronaut did- he was rather repugnant with his naïtivity, but it was her fault, so she couldn't complain- to view another flashback light, specifically to "remember" more about the Ultimate Hunt. It was all utter bullshit, but who was she to stop them? All for the sake of the game, she figured.

This was, as she remembers it, right after the unfortunate demise of the maid and the tennis player. They were rather remoseful over the fact that the maid's dash for freedom failed, so any news was good news. They ate it up like flies on honey.

They'd taken their turns. Shirogane had watched with amusement as each one had been subsequently stunned by the images forcing their way into their brains, breathing Shirogane's lie as if it was the gospel truth. It was passed around the 12 survivors like a shared communal soup can.

When that detective boy, Saihara, had his turn, Shirogane noticed something off. When he let go of the Flashback light, his gaze broke, as if the people around him were more shocking than the content he'd just viewed.

His gaze fixated on Shirogane, wild excitement dancing in his eyes. Thankfully, he stayed quiet, but Shirogane knew he needed to be dealt with. She returned his gaze, level-headed. He was nothing but a pawn, after all, but she wondered what this new development would gain her.

When the same change struck the astronaut boy, and then the upstart grape gremlin, she started to worry.

* * *

She didn't want to make such an image of herself, but if her hypothesis was correct, she wouldn't have anything to fear. Besides, she could just erase that memory if she needed to, right? There was nothing to be afraid of.

She caught the Saihara boy before he left the gym, his gaze locked hungrily on the Ouma boy, a pink sheen dusting his cheeks. Ouma waved goodbye, a dead-eyed gaze on his face. When they were done with their "exchange" she grabbed him by the arm.

"Ah, it's you!" he exclaimed breathlessly. His personality really had taken a turn for the worse. "I was hoping I would find you! First of all, just to thank you for letting me on the show, and then maybe get some tips for keeping this on the down-low. I must be breaking some rules or something."

"You sure are," Shirogane grumbled. "Listen, how much do you remember? Or more accurately, what do you  _not_ remember?"

"This is the first time I've been in this building."

Oh, she was in deep shit.

* * *

She decided to make it into the third motive. Saihara knew what he had to do, and she sent letters to Ouma and Momota later. She knew Momota would be a team player, and Ouma possibly as well. The third boy, she figured, was the biggest wild card. She hadn't seen his audition tape; she didn't know what she was working with.

She tried to act surprised when "Monokuma" unveiled that _suddenly, some of your classmates remembered their true personalities with this last flashback light! They're muuuuuuuch worse people, so killing them might do you some good. Or, just maybe, they might just kill you~,_ but it was straight out her script book, so she wasn't concerned. She seemed to do a good job acting  ~~as usual~~.

She tried to ignore Momota's declaration that "he'd definitely win this killing game, even if it meant killing all of you losers" and Harukawa's anguished shouts of  _why are you doing this, Kaito_ and  _you had faith in everyone, why_ and definitely ignored that Saihara and that Ouma walk out of the room together, as if they'd known each other for years.

* * *

You are Saihara Shuichi, and you signed up for this killing game to die.

Oh no, but not just any old death. You wanted to die at the hands of your  _favorite show ever_ because you  _killed someone so horribly that everyone would remember it forever._

You  _lusted_ for it.  _Yearned for it._ No death would be sweeter, or more satisfying. However, when you found out what you did the last two trials, opposing these murders? Well, you were just about ready to let someone kill you instead.

You figured, it was kind of Shirogane, for letting you build up the most perfect alibi of  _protagonist,_ but a protagonist had  _already_ killed someone this season and you weren't about to die a double. You had to do something so original that it rivalled even Akamatsu's scandal. You had an idea.

And that idea came to you in the hands of an old friend, who you loved so dearly and were convinced you left behind when you began this game.

* * *

You are Kokichi Ouma, and you signed up for this killing game to die. 

You wanted to be murdered, plain and simple. Or, if need be, suicide, and take out everyone with you. You didn't care. Your beloved best friend left you for this game, and you wanted nothing short of death. 

You were ready. Finally awake, finally lucid, you had a whole killing school full of tools at your disposal to do the job. You were prepared, and if you spent the time thinking, you figured you could plan it out in a day or two.

Then, your friend came to you with an idea on how to get it done, and you were ready to die in his arms.

* * *

Shirogane had plans. She supposed the astronaut was going to kill next, if Harukawa wasn't careful enough. If he didn't do it, or chickened, she'd frame him, just like she'd framed Akamatsu. Akamatsu was kind, but Shirogane knew what she could've really been. She was upset, in hindsight, that she'd wasted this potential, but she could work with it.

She focused her attention on the cameras watching Momota. She wanted a theater.

She didn't notice the Saihara and the Ouma boy sneaking off to one of the abandoned classrooms.

* * *

"The trial records say that Akamastu girl dropped her shot put in this vent," Ouma had remarked. "Should we drop the knives here, maybe?" He was gesturing to the vent embedded in the wall next to them. If they positioned this just right, the camera wouldn't catch it...

Saihara had kissed him feverishly, his eyes manic with the desire of carrying this to its end. They were both desperate for that release of death, the high, and here they were, chasing it in the worst way. 

"Mmhm, that sounds reasonable. Destroy the e-evidence." He gripped his shoulders, shaking. "If they can't figure it out, if any of them can't, they all go down with us. It'll be the most unforgettable Danganronpa season in history. Danganronpa Season 53, trial 3."

Ouma held up the knife, watching it glint in the artificial sunlight with an empty apathy. He and Saihara were about to  _die, by their own hands,_ and he couldn't bring himself to give a shit, or feel any fear at all really. This is what he'd been waiting for since the first time they'd met in summer camp and sat down in the campsite lobby, watching seasons 1 through 50 on the old, beat-up tv in the game house. He felt nothing, no fear, no regret.

"Are you ready, Saihara?" He gave a knife to the other boy. He looked so different without that baseball cap of his, but neither of them minded. It was all part of the act. 

Saihara grimaced. "It's our last date. Please, call me Shuichi, just this once."

"Alright. Are you ready, Shuichi?" He guided the tip of the knife so it aimed at the other boy's abdomen, and in return, Saihara mirrored him.

"I've never been m-more ready, Kokichi."

He slipped it past the tender flesh of Saihara's stomach as he pressed his lips to the other boy's. He felt a searing, burning pain strike him, and his shirt getting sticky, but he didn't care. The kiss tasted like blood, his blood and Saihara's blood, his saliva and Saihara's saliva, all mixing together in a cocktail in their mouths. Saihara yanked free both knives and feebly threw them into the vent, and sighed, satisfied, as both boys heard them clack against the vent walls as they slid out of reach. They kept fighting against each other's tongues, feeling as if they were literally sucking the last bit of life out of the other, and keeping it for their own.

They broke apart only because they didn't have the strength to keep on anymore. They laid next to each other, hands clasped together, each breath a death rattle. Their clothing was soaked in blood, but they didn't care.

"L-love you... S-shuichi..." Ouma wheezed. He tried his best to squeeze the other boy's hand, but even if he did, the other boy probably didn't feel it. 

Saihara smiled as he shut his eyes. "Love y-you... Kok-kichi."

* * *

Harukawa had learned to accept that there would be no more training sessions with Saihara and Momota, so she went with Chabashira, Yonaga and Yumeno instead. They were kind to her, and incredibly understanding.

Even when the four of them stumbled across blood leaking out of the door of an empty classroom.

None of them wanted to open that door, that can of worms, but somebody had to do it. Maki took it, took the blame, for the Momotas and the Saiharas she'd lost through her life. Shirogane ruefully noted that she never lived that life, but who was to stop her from having hope?

Even though they were prepared, the horror of the scene was still earth-shattering.

_I didn't mean to break them._

The woman behind the camera was silent too, only because she missed this oversight.

There was blood, sure. Shirogane was used to blood by now. Harukawa was used to blood by now. They all were. Blood in the water, blood on the vines, blood on the library floor.

But not this much blood. And two smiling boys, hands clasped, dead on the ground like that's all they ever wanted to be.

* * *

_Truth bullet nō1: the drops of blood leading into the vent._

_Truth bullet nō2: everyone has an alibi._

_Truth bullet nō3: the strange noises coming from the vent._

_Truth bullet nō4: the location of the wounds._

_Class trial, start!_

* * *

When the trial came, there wasn't much to work with.

Shirogane waited for someone to unintentionally assign themselves the role of protagonist. Harukawa played her role excellently. She pulled every card Saihara would have done  ~~if he hadn't just died in a pool of his own blood next to his lover, whoops!~~ She was brilliant, and Shirogane had to hand it to her.

She figured it out, too. Not down to every detail. She didn't understand every bit. But she got as close as she could've. She was less concerned of the circumstance and more of the motive.

* * *

Shirogane was in deep shit.

She knew it when Maki Harukawa looked her in the eye and asked her,

"Did they remember what they forgot, or did they forget what they 'remembered?'"

**Author's Note:**

> wow this was a whirlwind


End file.
